Mistakes that we make
by KitKatD
Summary: My attempt to rewrite the ending for Peter and Assumpta.
1. Chapter 1

He tried to stop her but he didn't have the strength. Kissing her had been instinctive not planned and as he watched her run out of the kitchen and heard the slam of the door he knew he'd ruined everything. He slumped into the kitchen chair, tears slipping down his face, and rested his head on the table. He'd thought of nothing but her for so long that he couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been the first thing he'd thought of when he woke in the morning or a time when she didn't fill his every dream. He'd been confused yes, tormented definitely, but just the sight of her smile across the bar, her quiet laugh, even the way her eyes shone when she barred whoever had most recently offended her had made him happy in a way he'd never before known. And now it was over. What had he done?

He sat until he had no more tears to shed, then pulled himself up and dragged his sleeve over his eyes. Working on auto pilot he finished his entry for the food fair, knowing he would not be there, washed the dishes, and waited for Niamh and Ambrose to return. As he sat his mind went back to Fitzgeralds. What was she doing? Thinking? He didn't think he'd ever forget the look in her eyes as she pushed him away and he hated himself for causing her pain. He had to explain himself, to make what feeble apology he could knowing it would never be enough. His mind raced as he tried to find the words that might let her know how deeply he felt, how much he loved her, how he didn't know how he could live without her but they would not come. Nothing seemed good enough. He paced the hall and as he heard a car pull up outside and the front door handle turn he rushed out shouting a hurried goodbye to Niamh and Ambrose who watched after him in confusion as he ran down the road.

"I wonder what's wrong with him" Niamh said. "Maybe his cooking didn't agree with him" laughed Ambrose spying the boxes neatly stacked on the side board. Niamh giggled, the evening out had been fun. It had been good to spend some time alone with Ambrose and she had felt young and carefree again. She doubted he was right about Father Peter but watching him disappear round the corner she decided not to dwell on it. "Come on love" she said "Let's have a night cap" and shut the door.

Peter raced to the pub still not knowing what he was going to say but sure that he couldn't leave things as they were but, as he got to the door, he froze. Assumpta was sat alone at the bar in the fading light a large glass of wine in her hand. The crowd had been somewhat surprised when she'd come storming back and thrown them all out. Brendan had tried to find out what was wrong but even he knew when to bite his tongue and had left with Padraig and Siobhan to see if there was any brandy left in his much raided drinks cabinet.

Peter's hand rested on the door as he watched her through the window. She sighed and turned slightly. He hid in the shadows and his heart broke for the second time that night at the sight of the pain he had caused. Fresh tears welled in his eyes and unable to face her his head dropped and he walked away.

Assumpta gasped as she caught sight of him but he was already gone. He must have come to remind her he was a priest again she thought bitterly. Slamming the now empty glass down on the counter she stood, planning to storm out after him demanding to know what he thought he was doing. He couldn't just kiss her like that, make her feel like that, more alive than she'd felt in years and expect her just to forget it. But something held her back and instead she reached for the bottle and drained the last of the wine into her glass. She couldn't face the rejection again and couldn't trust herself not to break down at the sight of him. Draining the glass she carried it into the kitchen and turned off the light. As she did so she heard the bang in the cellar, the fuse again. That could wait till the morning she thought as she climbed the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Assumpta had been wake all night despite the fact that she'd finished the whole bottle of wine. She didn't think she'd ever had a night when she'd felt so many different emotions. Anger, sadness, bitterness, loneliness, love. But as the morning light had started to appear a sense of resignation had set in and she knew now what she had to do. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed her thoughts again turned to Peter.

Over at the curate's house sleep had eventually come to Peter. As he slept he dreamt of her. Sat on the steps outside Kathleen's Assumpta had again given him the petition. He had felt his heart swell, two years on he had relived that moment so often that he knew it was a feeling he'd never forget. Only this time he'd taken her hand as she'd gone to leave. He felt her pause and she looked at him quizzically. He'd held her hand and not let go until her confusion turned to a smile and she'd sat back down on the step next to him. They had sat in silence each unsure what to say. Assumpta's hand twitched and Peter looked up in panic that she was about to leave but she was just looking at him calmly the same smile teasing the edge of her mouth. He knew then he'd never let go of her hand and lent slowly in to kiss her, still holding it tight.

For a few beautiful seconds when he'd first woken he'd felt at peace but that was before he realised his hand was empty, that as always he was alone, and the memories of the night before came flooding back. He groaned.

The phone rang shrilly by his bed, "Father Peter" he said hurriedly grabbing the receiver but the voice on the other end was not her's.

"Morning Father", said Brendan. "All ready for your big court appearance?". Peter groaned again, he'd forgotten all about that.

"As ready as I'll ever be I suppose" he replied.

"Good good" said Brendan, "And don't worry, we have a plan."

"That's what I like to hear" said Peter shaking himself to try and force himself to concentrate. "Although I hope it's all above board."

"Don't you go worrying about that Peter, you know there's no one more reliable than myself and Padraig. Just have to hope that madam from the pub doesn't do anything to ruin it." At mention of Assumpta Peter sat bolt upright.

"Why? What makes you think she'll do anything to jeopardise anything? Surely she's got too much to lose?"

"That's what you would have thought", replied Brendan "But you didn't see her last night. Don't know what set her off but I haven't seen her that angry in a while. I'd stay out of her way of I were you."

"Of course, of course" said Peter his mind racing. "Well I'll see you in a bit Brendan, bye" and he put the phone back on the hook. Leaping out of bed he grabbed his clothes from the floor, the same jeans and jumper from the night before. He had to see her as soon as possible. Looking down at himself though he realised that he'd have to look more like a priest for court even if it was just for show, so angrily he changed and headed out the door.

The court case was a success, Padraig had pulled it off and was looking very proud of himself. As they were leaving the court house he decided that they should all go to the pub to celebrate. The others looked nervously at Assumpta but she just sighed and nodded.

The others had all been there when Peter had made it to the pub that morning but Assumpta didn't look like she wanted to talk anyway. In fact she didn't even look at him. He ached for her but knew that he couldn't do or say anything in front of the others. As the bus pulled back into Ballykissangel he made his excuses and turned to leave, he'd come back later. He was pretty sure Assumpta would only let them stay for one and then she'd turf them out to set up for the fair. He'd have his chance to try and explain then. "Ahh come on Father, you'll join us for one surely" said Padraig, "God was with us today after all" he winked.

"I've got some things I need to discuss with Father Mac" said Peter, "But enjoy yourselves".

"No fear of that" laughed Padraig and he turned towards Fitzgeralds followed closely by Liam and Donal, always keen for a pint.

Brendan was looking at Assumpta and saw her flinch as Peter said he had to talk to Father Mac. He wondered if Peter was anything to do with her current temper. Maybe they'd had a disagreement over a piece of scripture or differing thoughts on the contents of Peter's last sermon he joked to himself. But he knew something was up, they'd been something going on for a while. Although he hoped it wasn't what he thought it was, that could only lead to trouble. Still now wasn't the time to worry about that. He had a pint to claim before Assumpta threw them all out again.

Talk to Father Mac, of course that was what he would do. Talk to a man in a frock rather than talk to her. The anger grew in Assumpta again as she pulled the pints. Well, she thought, it's clear what's important to him. At least she knew where she stood.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for reading. It's my first attempt at writing but I've been lurking and enjoying everyone else's stories so thought it only fair I should have a go too.

Father Mac shook his head slowly as he watched his young curate walk away from the church and towards the pub. To be fair this one had lasted longer than he'd thought. The other priests would start to talk though. That was two he'd lost now. The bishop would be very annoyed. Father Mac dreaded that conversation. Oh well, he thought, maybe God would be kinder to him with the next one.

Peter walked as quickly down the hill as he could without breaking into a run. The conversation with Father Mac had taken longer than he'd hoped, the others would be arriving back to set up for the food fair soon and he had to talk to her before then. He was free. Well almost. As he burst through the door to the pub he didn't even notice her car wasn't outside.

"What do you mean you're going away?! You can't, it's the food fair tonight. Everyone is relying on you."

"Ah, now Niamh. Sure, everyone would be happy whoever pulled their pints."

"I guess so" replied Niamh. "I can cover one night I suppose. At least you'll be back by Kieran's christening on Sunday. You can hardly have the mother of the baby behind the bar straight after mass!"

"Umm about that..."

Peter burst into the pub. "Assumpta!"

"She's not here Father."

"Niamh, er hello. Not here? When will she be back?"

"No idea I'm afraid. And right high and dry she's left us too. Still at least you're here now, would you mind moving those tables?"

Peter stood stunned. What did she mean gone? Where was she? When would she be back? But Niamh had already headed into the kitchen. Trying to remain calm he started moving the tables as requested. She must have just gone to Cildargan he thought. Probably needed some last minute supplies. Yes, that must be it. Feeling calmer he had just finished moving the tables when Brendan and Ambrose came in. "Your Chinese Father" said Ambrose. "You left in such a hurry last night you completely forgot it. Can't have you missing out on your chance for the cup!"

"Ahh thanks Ambrose" muttered Peter, his mind immediately going back to the events of the night before. The smoothness of the skin on her neck, the smell of her hair... Snapping himself out of it he went to find Niamh to see if she needed anymore help, noticing Brendan's eyes on him as he left.

The food fair was in full swing and everyone was having a great time. Peter kept looking up every time the door opened but it was never Assumpta. "What's keeping her?" he thought to himself. He'd been unable to focus on anything all evening. His mind kept turning to the conversation he was planning, assuming she would even allow him to explain. A smile crossed his lips. He could easily imagine how difficult it would be to get her to listen! But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Too many times she'd been in charge of the conversation and now it was his turn. And now that he was finally ready to tell her how he felt about her, how he thought about her every minute of every day, how he worked on autopilot, he knew that he would make her listen.

"Pint please Niamh" shouted Padraig. "You just can't get the staff these days!"

"Alright alright I'm coming " huffed Niamh, muttering something under her breath.

"He's sorry Niamh" Brendan said shooting a look a Padraig who sat and looked sheepish. "When's Assumpta going to get back?"

"No idea, don't even know where she's headed. She didn't even seem to know how long she'd be gone. Said something about needing a permanent change. I don't know what's going on with her."

Peter had been standing further down the bar trying to chat to Siobhan about a particularly tricky problem she was having with a couple of Eamonn's sheep. "But she is coming back?" he choked on hearing Niamh and Brendan talking.

"Eventually I would imagine Father but didn't sound like it would be any time soon. She's left me in charge, said she call in a couple of weeks when she's worked out what she's doing. Don't know how she thinks I'm going to manage, going to have to get some help in." Niamh turned leaving Peter standing in shock. A hand rested on his shoulder and he spun around his head reeling.

"Congratulations Father" said Michael, "I think this is yours". Peter looked at the cup but didn't even register the words . She'd gone. What had he done? His heart twisted in pain. She'd gone. With those two words he felt his world crumble around him. His hopes, dreams for the future lay shattered. Around him the chatter went on, people pushing past him to get another pint, but he stood rooted to the spot his mind blank but for the image of her face as she had run from Niamh's kitchen last night. What had he done?

Suddenly there was a flicker from the cellar and the lights went out. Everyone groaned. "I'll go" said Padraig.

"No stay" said Niamh, opening the cellar door and tentatively finding her way downstairs. Lots of shuffling and a fair amount of cursing was followed by the return of the lights. The crowd cheered. But they were silenced as a large bang rang out from the cellar.

"Niamh" shouted Ambrose rushing behind the bar and down the steps. "Niamh". He was followed by Brendan.

"God! Doc, Michael" shouted Brendan. "Come down quick".

"Niamh, Niamh can you hear me? Niamh speak to me." Ambrose knelt over Niamh shaking her.

"Ambrose, let me" said Michael. Ambrose moved out of the way as Michael checked Niamh's pulse. "Padraig, a cardiac ambulance." Ambrose gasped and fell to his knees. "Brendan can you do mouth to mouth?"

"I can".

"Right two breaths."

Upstairs, the shouting jolted Peter from his thoughts and he rushed down to the cellar closely followed by Father Mac. As they reached the bottom of the stairs they saw Michael and Brendan trying to revive Niamh. "Father, remember you're still an ordained priest" whispered Father Mac.

"What?"

"I'm thinking of her."

"What?!"

"The sacrament. If you don't do it I will. But I think they need their own curate at a time like this. You must, it's your duty."

Peter looked down at Niamh, cold and lifeless on the concrete cellar floor and up at the faces of the people around her. The concentration of Michael and Brendan as they continued their fruitless attempts, the desperation of Ambrose as he wept. "I'm afraid its no good" sighed Michael. Quietly Peter put a hand on Ambrose's shoulder. Father Mac was right. Now wasn't the time for them to know.

"Ambrose, it's time."

"No"

"Ambrose, please, for her sake." Silently Ambrose fell back on his heels and Peter knelt down next to him taking out his bible. "Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. Amen." Peter watched as Ambrose fell over his wife's body tears streaming down his face. The others stood silently around.

The ambulance came and Michael guided Ambrose into the back of it. Peter stood on his own his mind reeling while his heart went out to the poor man. Turning he walked towards the bridge, the rain that had started earlier stinging as it hit his face.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks so much reading and your kind comments. Any advice greatly appreciated!_

* * *

"Niamh Egan please".

"Of course Father" said the receptionist sorting though the papers on her desk. "Second room on the right. Erm, her husband is still in there."

"Thank you" said Peter quietly. Walking along the mortuary corridor he paused at the right door. It didn't matter how often he did this it didn't get any easier. In fact, this was much worse than usual. Pushing lightly on the door he peered through. Ambrose was sat, his head bent over his wife's hand. Peter stood uselessly in the doorway. Niamh may have been the religious sort but he'd never been sure about Ambrose.

"Ambrose?" Slowly Ambrose lifted his head and turned to Peter. His face was smeared with tears. He said nothing, just turned back to stare at Niamh. Peter stepped silently into the room, pulling the door behind him and moved over to the far side of the room. He took a seat and waited.

The only noises Peter could hear were the dull tick of the clock on the wall and his own breath. The room was bare so Peter just sat and watched Ambrose. He tried to imagine the pain the poor man was in. When he's been in this situation before he hadn't really known how those left behind must feel. But now, he knew the pain of being without the one you loved. Ok, it wasn't completely the same he reasoned but he hoped he could in some way understand Ambrose's pain so that he could help.

Twenty minutes had passed. Peter was looking out the window when he heard Ambrose croak "It was my fault wasn't it?"

"Ambrose, it was a tragic accident. It was nobody's fault."

"But I turned my back on the priesthood to marry her. If I hadn't maybe she'd have been spared. If I hadn't given in she would still be here."

"Ambrose, we can't always understand why God does what he does but I can assure you this is not your fault. You are not being punished for not becoming a priest. You made Niamh happy. That can never be a bad thing."

"But there has to be a reason why. What do I tell Kieran? He's lost his mother but it was what God wanted? He's a child. Why would God take a mother from her child?"

Peter sighed, "I don't know Ambrose and you are right to ask. I know it doesn't seem fair and we'll never know why Niamh was taken from us but for Kieran's sake we have to carry on. He needs his Father, now more than ever before."

Ambrose went quiet and looked back at Niamh. After a moment he stood and turned to Peter. "Thank you Father. I wish I could believe you but its just not that easy."

After Ambrose left the room Peter sank back in his chair. He knew no words would ever be enough but he also knew Ambrose would need all the help he could get to get through this. He stood up and walked over to Niamh. "I promise I'll do everything I can" he whispered to her and he walked out of the room.

In a small hotel just outside Dublin Assumpta collapsed on the bed, dumping her bag on the floor. She'd had a long day. She leant over to pick up the phone next to the bed and started to dial Fitzgeralds. The food fair would probably be over by now and she wanted to thank Niamh. Sometimes she relied on her friend too much and she hated relying on people. The phone rang but nobody answered. "Never mind" thought Assumpta. Niamh had probably gone home and left the clean up till the morning. She'd just ring in a few days when she'd decided where she was going. Niamh would understand.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Because at the moment there's no one else to do it and I need a pint."

Padraig sighed and picked up a couple of ashtrays sat on the bar. Pretending to busy himself he took them out to the kitchen to wash up. As he walked past the bar he couldn't help but look down through the open cellar door. No one had shut it yet. Maybe he should, it's not like he and Niamh were close. But no, he couldn't. It seemed too soon. He'd sort out the electrics though. Had to make himself useful somehow.

Brendan was busy cleaning glasses. He'd been in Ballykissangel his whole life but couldn't remember a time when things were this quiet. "Where are you Assumpta?" he thought. After asking around he'd realised only Niamh knew. He wasn't sure the girl could take another lose like this. She'd lost enough for one so young. Maybe he should ring Leo. No, he was pretty sure she wouldn't have gone there. But where? He'd just have to keep his fingers crossed that she'd call. In the meantime he reckoned he could sort out reopening the pub. After the funeral of course.

Siobhan had managed to dodge the cleaning. She felt so tired recently. As she went about her day she wondered what would happen next. Ambrose was a good man she knew that. A great father definitely. But a person who could survive on their own. A single parent. There she wasn't so sure. It took time to work out how to be alone and he hadn't had that luxury.

Michael waved goodbye to his last patient of the day and thankfully shut the door. He had a headache. Sitting back at his desk he rested his elbows on the papers laid out in front of him and put his head in his hands. Today had been hard. He'd lost patients before of course but some were harder to lose than others. There was always that doubt that he could have done more. He wasn't as quick as he used to be, had he missed something?

Draining the last of his brandy Quigley looked out at his garden. He could still see Niamh, aged 7, pigtails in her hair running round with her skipping rope. They'd been disappointed when they found out they couldn't have another child but Niamh was such a happy child that they'd made it through. But now he was on his own, no wife and no Niamh. He'd never noticed how empty this house could be.

Ambrose looked down at his son sleeping peacefully in his cot. Oh to be that happy he thought. To not know. In the other room he heard the phone ringing. He left it. He didn't think he could take any more condolences. They weren't going to bring her back.

Assumpta hang up the phone and took back the unspent coins. She started to dial the number for the pub instead but heard them calling her flight. Picking up her bags she figured she'd ring when she got there.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning of the funeral arrived cold and grey. The day before had been a long one. Peter had stayed with Ambrose as the residents of Ballykissangel turned out to say their goodbyes. Ambrose had politely shaken their hands, acknowledged their kind words, but had barely taken his eyes off his wife's body laid out in the coffin in their front room. Peter had been to a lot of funerals but they didn't get any easier. His own mother's was still fresh in his mind and his mind drifted to her. That had been a hard day too but at least he'd had his brothers for support and his faith. He wasn't sure Ambrose had a lot of that at the moment and Peter wasn't sure he blamed him. As Ambrose sat hunched over his wife's coffin Peter stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder.

Walking through the village, his coat pulled up high to block the icy chill, Peter tried to run through the mass in his head. Loving wife, devoted mother, loyal friend, dedicated catholic... all true but somehow not enough. Finding the words was going to be hard. But that was his job. He sighed and knocked on Ambrose's door.

After the funeral the majority of the congregation decamped straight to Fitzgeralds for the wake. Brendan and Padraig had sorted the place out and even though the memory of what had happened there was still raw it was the place that the village had always dealt with deaths before and where they needed to be, surrounded by each other. All except Ambrose, he'd taken Kieran home followed by his mother who for once seemed to be keeping quiet. Peter had offered to go with him to help out but Ambrose had politely declined. "No offence Father, but I think I've seen enough of you for one day."

Peter sighed and went back into the empty church, tearing the collar from his neck as he went. He was at a loss what to say to Ambrose, he realised that. He thought he knew how to comfort, how to reassure someone who had lost like Ambrose had, they just needed the right words but he realised now that he didn't understand. How could he. He knelt at the altar resting his head. A noise, a sob, behind him, coming from one of the pews, made him jump.

"Brian! Sorry I though everyone had left."

"Everyone has Father. At least everyone who knows where to go." Peter watched Brian as he stood and walked out of the church. He sighed and slowly closed his eyes. No he would never know but maybe he had to try. He resolved then and there to try.

So Peter had gone home, changed, and was now sat on his usual stool at the bar. It may not seem like the most obviously place for a priest to start but it was what they all knew. Padraig was serving and rushed off his feet. What had started as quiet conversation was quickly turning louder as more pints were drunk. Someone was setting up some music in one corner. To outsiders it may have just seemed like a normal night in the pub but Peter saw the way that people talked to each other, how they sat surrounded by their friends thinking to themselves how lucky they were. He watched Brendan and Siobhan deep in conversation. The occasional smile playing on their lips, Brendan's hand laying gently on Siobhan's arm. Peter smiled to himself. They'll get there in the end he thought.

Inevitably his mind turned to Assumpta. It seemed like a lifetime since he'd seen her. No one had heard from her. She should be here, Peter thought. But there was nothing he could do about that and maybe it was easier that she wasn't. He'd been ready to leave this all for her but the last couple of days had made him see how much he was needed as a priest, how much the people he considered friends relied on him. He thought he'd worked out what he wanted but suppose he'd been wrong.

The phone behind the bar rang. "Father would you mind getting that" shouted Padraig, trying to pull three pints at once.

Peter looked up and laughed "I bet you'll never moan if service is a bit slow ever again!" he joked.

"Ah you can't get the punters like you used to" Padraig replied. Peter jumped off his stool and wandered round to the phone.

"Fitzgeralds". Silence. He tried again.

"Peter" came the whisper.

"Assumpta is that you?" Peter's heart had jumped at the sound of her voice. "Where are you?"

"I don't think I want to talk to you about that. Is Niamh there?" she asked bluntly.

Peter sighed "Assumpta, I have some bad news. Is there anyone with you?"

"Peter please I just want to talk to Niamh."

"Assumpta there's been an accident. The electrics were playing up in the cellar and Niamh tried to fix them. Michael tried everything he could but the shock was just to strong. I'm so sorry she didn't make it." Again the line went silent. "Assumpta are you there? Speak to me. Please.".

"When?" came the whisper.

"A few days ago. The funeral was today. I'm so sorry" he was repeating himself he knew but he didn't know what else to say. He could hear her fighting back the tears and he wished he could hold her.

"I'll come straight back. I'll be there tomorrow afternoon."

"Assumpta where are you? "

"Nowhere special just needed to get away for a bit" she sighed.

"I know, I'm so sorry"

"Forget it Peter please". She put the phone down and stared at the wall in front of her. In just a couple of seconds she burst into tears which stopped only when sleep finally caught up with her.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks so much for reading and your comments so far. Really enjoying writing it and I promise it won't always be so sad._

Assumpta had picked up her van at the airport carpark and was now making her way slowly back to Ballykissangel. The rain was lashing down and she repeatedly had to clear the windscreen with her sleeve so she could have any hope of seeing where she was going. "I've been here before" she muttered to herself hoping that this time she wouldn't pass any stray priests walking along all innocent just waiting to break her heart. But the coast was clear and she pulled up outside of the pub. It was getting dark and someone had drawn the curtains. She could just see the welcoming lights peeking through the gaps. With a slight hesitation she pushed open the door. The warmth from the fire hit her immediately and she breathed in the peaty smell coming from the roaring fire deep into her lungs. The feeling of coming home never disappointed.

"Assumpta! You're back." Brendan was tending bar that night and his words jolted her back to the moment.

"Hi" she said tentatively as she scanned the room. With an immense feeling of relief she realised he wasn't there. She felt herself relax, one thing at a time she thought knowing she'd happily put of seeing Peter for quite some time. Moving over to the bar she tossed her bag into the kitchen and took up her usual spot. "So what have I missed?" she tried to joke. Immediately Brendan was beside her and she leant into his shoulder letting the tears fall down her face on to his jacket. Over her head Brendan waved the others away and they quickly gathered their things and scuttled out the door. Brendan and Asssumpta stood for some time. He stroked her hair

"It's ok" he tried to reassure. He could feel her shaking as her tears continued to fall. He didn't see Assumpta like this often, not since her parents he thought. He'd known she'd take it badly but he hadn't expected her to break down so quickly.

After some time Assumpta broke away from him and wiped her eyes. "Sorry about that, it's been a long few days."

"Sure it's no problem Assumpta."

"So how was the funeral?" she asked.

"About as good as you'd expect I suppose. Peter did a sterling job given the circumstances." At mention of Peter he saw her flinch but she clearly put that straight out of her head and carried on.

"And Ambrose? How's he doing?"

"Not great understandably. None of us are." Brendan tried to reassure her that they were all struggling with Niamh's death, that she didn't need to be on her own. Understanding him Assumpta looked at him fondly.

"Thanks Brendan" she sighed. She moved round to the other side of the bar and collapsed onto one of the stools. Resting her elbows on the bar she placed her head in her hands. "What am I going to do without her" she said. "She was my best friend."

"But not your only friend, don't forget that." Assumpta looked like she was about to say something but clearly thought better of it and smirked slightly to herself instead. She looked so tired Brendan thought. "Off with you anyway. It's time you went to bed you looked knackered." Assumpta smiled a little.

"Thanks Brendan, you always know how to make a girl feel better! But I guess you're right."

"I'll tidy up and shut up behind me." Assumpta stood up and walked to the stairs. She hesitated slightly and her eyes flicked to the cellar door. Lowering her head she carried on up to bed leaving Brendan to clear up the glasses.

A while later, quietly pulling the door behind him, Brendan started the short walk back to his house. The road was dark but a slight movement outside the shop caught his eye. "Is someone there?" he called out. But there was no response. Must have just been a cat or something he thought, who would be hanging around in the cold at this time of night. Just as he was about to continue on his way a figure stood up from the step on which he'd been sitting for some time and emerged from the shadows. "Peter! What are you doing out here?" Peter stood before him, his hair stuck to his head, soaking wet from the rain that had only recently stopped. "Its freezing, what are you doing?" Brendan tried again when Peter still remained silent.

"She's back?" The words were so quiet that if the night hadn't been so silent Brendan wouldn't have heard.

"Yes" he replied not quite sure how much to say.

"Is she ok?" Peter moved forward into the light and Brendan saw the earnestness in his eyes.

"Not really, but she will be. She needs some time, just like all of us I suppose." He saw Peter nod to himself.

"Of course, goodnight Brendan."

"Goodnight Father." Brendan watched Peter turn and as he started to walk away he called after him. "I don't know what happened Peter, what made her leave, but I think she's got enough on her plate at the moment don't you. She needs her friends now."

"I couldn't agree more Brendan. I just hope she'll let me help."

"Don't push it Peter" Brendan warned possibly more sternly than he'd intended. Seeing Assumpta tonight he'd been reminded of how fragile she was and he was going to do everything he could to protect her. As he watched the curate walk away, his shoulders hunched, he wondered again what had gone on between him and Assumpta. He knew that he was the reason she'd left so quickly, and he could guess that it had something to do with the way they looked at each other. That much was obvious. What he didn't know was what Peter was going to do about it and he wasn't about to see Assumpta hurt any more.


	8. Chapter 8

She'd been back in town for a couple of weeks now and, as she looked around the pub that morning regretting not cleaning up the night before, she sighed. Back to normal then she thought. Her days were busy as usual and everyone had slowly started to come back to the pub in the evenings so she always had someone to keep her mind off things. Well, not everyone, she reminded herself. Although his absence was probably for the best. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that conversation. And there would be a conversation she promised herself. She'd got over the rejection, the anger, and then, to some extent, she'd got used to the pain. It was still there but now it was a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. That didn't mean he was getting off lightly though.

Peter was likewise keeping himself busy. He'd thrown himself back into the church knowing he'd let his responsibilities there drift somewhat recently. The last week or so had reinforced to him how important it was that he stayed a priest and he was determined to be a good one. So he spent his time doing the church accounts, visiting his elderly parishioners, and listening to Kathleen gossip away as she did the flowers. And he was happy he told himself. This was the promise he'd made, the vow he had taken. He'd been sure when he'd first entered the seminary. Having his own church and congregation was his dream and he couldn't let anything get in the way of that. The retreat hadn't been enough to remind him of that but Niamh's death had brought it all in to focus. He hadn't been to the pub yet though. He'd promised Brendan he'd stay away but, at night, as he lay awake alone, he wondered whether he was staying away for her benefit of his own.

"Mornin 'Sumpta" called Padraig as he came into the pub.

"One minute" came the shout back from the kitchen. "Just sorting out the stew."

"Ah take your time then. I've come to be fed as well as watered and my standards are high!"

"Never thought I'd say it but I've missed your jokes." Padraig tried to look offended, a dig at his jokes and his taste all in one.

But he grinned "And this place hasn't been the same without your charms either!"

The rest of the regulars turned up then and slipped into their usual patterns. Assumpta busied herself around them, pouring pints and gathering plates. Trying to keep her mind on the job.

"Assumpta, Assumpta!" Brendan was shouting now.

"Alright alright what is it?" Assumpta grumpily replied. Her mind had drifted again and she was angry at herself for having let it.

"We've decided we need a party. Get things going round here again."

"It's a bit soon don't you think. You only buried the girl a few weeks ago."

"But Niamh loved a party ."

True, thought Assumpta, smiling to herself as she remembered her friend dancing around that very room. "Ok then but you're not having it here if that's what you're thinking."

"We can have it at the school. Thought we'd do an eighties theme. Shoulder pads, neon leg warmers, that was your era right" Brendan winked.

"Only just!" she huffed "And you wouldn't have caught me dead in that stuff anyway!"

"Ah come on Assumpta" piped up Siobhan. "It'll be fun and we could all do with some of that."

"Fine but you don't need my permission anyway."

"No" said Padraig. "But we do need your beer..."

"For Christ's sake, do you people ever not need my beer!" Assumpta turned and headed into the kitchen slamming the door behind her.

"She'll come round" said Brendan "Once she's seen me in my glad rags!"

"Well make sure you give the rest of us some warning before you put those on" laughed Siobhan. "Not sure I'm up to the shock!"

"I'll choose to ignore that!" Brendan replied in mock indignation. "Sure, you're just jealous of my moves!" And with that he drained the last of his pint, got of his chair, and moonwalked out of the door straight into a rather amused looking Peter.

"Father! Just checking I've still got it."

"Well looks like you're quite the dancer!"

"Practicing for the party."

"Party?" Asked Peter.

"At the school, this Saturday. Thought everyone could do with a bit of a lift and what better way than to dress up and have a drink and a good laugh at the local teacher and priest making fools of themselves."

"Oh no, I can't dance" exclaimed Peter.

"Sure it's for a good cause."

"Argh when you put it like that" grimaced Peter.

"Excellent stuff Father. I'll see you on Saturday."

Peter couldn't help but laugh at the retreating Brendan as he danced off down the road. A party could be fun, he thought. A chance for everyone to relax. They all deserved that. He turned his head and looked in through the door of the pub. Assumpta was behind the bar cleaning up some spilt beer. Peter watched her as she wiped up the spill, threw the towel over her shoulder, and picked up some glasses. With a deep breath he took a step forward and entered the pub.


End file.
